


Spooked

by Neyiea



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Can these kids have some happiness? Thanks, F/F, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 02:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: Bruce somehow gets wrangled into tagging along on Selina and Bridgit's date to a haunted house. It goes about as well as he expects it to (which is to say; not at all) and his hair-trigger reflexes are set off at the worst possible moment.Or:How Jonathan got kicked while working at his seasonal job, but he also got a cute boy's phone number.





	Spooked

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this what feels like forever ago and now it's finally done; success.
> 
> Sometimes I've just got to write cute, happy AUs because canon can get so dismal. 
> 
> <3

“It’s official,” Selina says only half an hour into their study session, “science is the absolute worst subject. Even more than history.”

“It’s not that bad,” Bruce protests. “At least you don’t have to memorize dates.”

“Like memorizing the periodic table and chemical equations is any better than having to remember dates.” Selina looks down at her notes with a frown, then sighs. “Plus, do you honestly think we’ll be using any of this knowledge next year when we’re out of high school?”

“I will.” He’d always found biology and chemistry interesting. There was an order and logic to the way things worked, just like with math, while featuring information and subjects that were more interesting than mere numbers. “I think science is pretty fascinating.”

“Fascinating,” Selina repeats dryly as she rests her elbows on her notes and stares at him. “Don’t your parents think that you’re going to be majoring in business once you’re in university?”

“I never said that I would.” Bruce shuffles through his notes and ignores the way he can feel Selina’s stare intensify. “Besides, I’m not the business major type.”

“Bruce, please. You are exactly the business major type, or a pre-med or pre-law type. Y’know, rich people secondary schooling.”

“That sounds awful. Do you know how many years it takes to actually start practicing as a Doctor?” Even if he doesn’t mind school he doesn’t want to be trapped in it for quite that long. Skipping a year would seem rather redundant, to him at least, if it took him another ten or so years after high school to actually complete his formal education. 

Selina snorts, and then she pushes away from the living room table to lay back on the carpeted floor. She’d requested to set up their textbooks and notes in here for their pre-test study session as opposed to the much more functional and ergonomically friendly kitchen, and Bruce is starting to think she only wanted to work in the living room so that she could lay back in the patches of sunlight that were streaming through the west-facing windows.

“Is it time for a break yet?”

“We barely finished the first unit, we have three more to go.”

She groans as if in pain, and that’s what Bruce’s mother walks in on.

“Selina are you alright?”

Selina springs back up into a sitting position. “I’m fine Mrs. Wayne! Just trying to find it within myself to care about chemistry.”

Martha chuckles under her breath, and she walks towards Bruce so that she can lean down to press a quick kiss into his curls. 

“Welcome home, mom. Is dad staying late at the office again?”

“It is a Friday night, which is apparently the best night to stay late at the office.” She pulls her hair out of her tidy French-knot and takes off her glittering earrings. “Will you be staying for dinner Selina? I heard Alfred cooking up a storm as I passed the kitchen.”

“Not tonight. After this I’m going to a haunted house with Bridgit.”

“Oh? That sounds interesting.” Martha’s eyes flicker between Selina and Bruce, who’s face is already buried in his notes, and a considering look crosses over her countenance. “When was the last time you went out to have some fun on a Friday night, Bruce?”

Bruce very slowly lifts his eyes away from his notes. “Fridays nights are the best nights for studying.”

Martha purses her lips in faux-seriousness. “I mean it! Next year you’ll be in university and you’ll wish that you’d had more fun in the free time that you have now. You should go with Selina and Bridgit to that haunted house.”

They’re going on a date, Bruce wants to say. They’re definitely dating and that would make me a third wheel.

He keeps his mouth shut, instead. 

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Besides, you need to get out of the house more often.”

“Yeah, Bruce,” says Selina, the traitor, folding her hands together and smiling a little too happily, “you need to get out of the house. You can tag along with Bridgit and I.”

If Bruce’s mother were not right there he would be kicking Selina’s legs under the table. 

“Well… I guess if they wouldn’t mind.” He attempts to initiate some _very meaningful_ eye contact with Selina, who brushes it off.

“Of course we wouldn’t mind.”

“Excellent.” Martha claps her hands together. “I’m so glad you’ll be going out. You’re cooped up in your room so often, it’s like you barely have a social life.”

Selina can’t quite conceal the sound of her laughter quick enough, and Bruce shoots her a moody look.

“I have a social life,” he mumbles.

“Coming to Wayne Foundation galas do not count, my darling boy. You kids have lots of fun tonight, okay?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Yes, mom.”

She throws a wide smile over her shoulder before she walks out of the room, and Bruce very pointedly closes his textbook.

“Selina. Did you just agree to me tagging along on your date?”

“Your mom kind of has a point, Bruce. You need to get out more often. Don’t worry, I’m sure you won’t bring the mood down too much. Plus.” Selina taps her nails against the table rhythmically. “Having a guy around might deter other guys from trying to hit on me and my girlfriend while we’re out. You know; in that gross, sexist, irritating ‘don’t want to poach another man’s gal’ kind of way. The haunted house is close to the university, and it’s a Friday night, and I am not in the mood to kick drunk frat-boy ass when I could be kissing my girlfriend.”

“So, I’m less of a third-wheel and more of a defense mechanism?” He could live with that. “Fine, I’ll go. But we really do have to finish studying.”

Selina sighs again, but Bruce can see a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

This night was definitely going to be… Something. 

Two hours later finds Bruce in a line to enter the haunted house which is an ancient, repurposed warehouse, and as he looks around at the somewhat rowdy university students that he and his friends appear to be surrounded by he cannot help but wonder if it was really such a good idea to do this on a Friday night. 

He steps a little closer to Selina, who casts a glance over at him and smirks before nuzzling her head against Bridgit’s neck.

Bridgit laughs and runs a hand through Selina’s hair.

The pair of them are so obviously in love, Bruce has no idea how anyone within a mile radius of them would ever think that hitting on one or both of them would work.

Unless they were oblivious, or just plain rude, or incredibly inebriated.

Bruce is going to assume that most of the university students around them are at the very least tipsy, just to be safe.

He feels tense already, and he’s not even in the building yet.

He does not believe this night is going to go particularly well for him, but at least Selina and Bridgit could have some peace and enjoy themselves. That was worth something. Worth a lot, even. 

Bruce straightens himself out and casts a quick glance around, on the lookout for anything that might set off his internal alarms.

“Okay Bruce, you’re a first line of defense, not an actual guard dog. You can calm down a little.”

“A line of defense?” Bridgit’s attention pulls away from Selina and Bruce fidgets under her unassuming, wide-eyed gaze. “What defense? I thought you said Bruce wanted to come along to have some fun after your chem study session.”

“He does,” Selina says with practiced ease. “But he’s also here to help keep me from breaking anyone’s hands again.”

“Oh. That was a really rough night.” Bridgit purses her lips briefly, but then she sends a soft smile Bruce’s way. “Thanks, Bruce. I’d really like to get through tonight without Selina being pulled into questioning.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to come, anyways.” His lie isn’t quite as graceful as Selina’s, but it seems to do the trick and Selina sends a grateful look his way.

There are a few minutes of waiting between each group entering the haunted house, and now that Bruce isn’t quite as on guard—though he still glances around frequently enough that he can hear Selina snort in amusement—he passes the time by opening up the flashcard app on his phone. He didn’t skip ahead a grade just so that people could claim that it was because his parents were trying to expedite his educational process, after all. Meanwhile Selina and Bridgit seem content with speaking to each other in low voices and wrapping their arms around each other’s waists. 

He makes it through twenty of his flashcards before they’re the next group to go inside. Bruce warily puts away his phone and eyes the sign posted in front of the door. Underneath the listed price per person it states the warnings and rules in a large, bold font. It has standard warnings for tight spaces, uneven flooring, strobe lights and the like, and a request that no one enter should they be under the influence of drugs or alcohol which Bruce doesn’t think the attendants are checking very thoroughly, all things considered. 

But what really catches his eye is the statement ‘our actors will touch you, please don’t touch them back.’

He is really not a fan of his personal space being invaded. And he may or may not have a bit of a hair trigger when it comes to self-defense. It was unlikely that he’d throw punches if someone just popped out from the shadows to try and spook him, but if someone’s going to come at him and tries to grab hold of him…

He plants his hands firmly in his pockets, a mantra of ‘I will not ruin Selina and Bridgit’s date’ running through his head. 

The attendant opens the gate for them and Bruce takes a small step back.

“Ladies first,” he says, and Selina laughs under her breath while she grabs onto Bridgit’s hand and pulls her into the dark doorway.

Bruce takes a deep breath and then follows behind them.

The air is moist and thick from fog machines, and right off the bat he feels a little uneasy as they head through the first narrow hallway single-file, like rats in a dark maze. Bruce is not afraid of the dark, and he’s not claustrophobic. He does, however, have a few vivid memories that took place in shadowy spaces on gloomy nights. 

This was Gotham after all, and not even Bruce Wayne had lived a life completely free from distressing situations. 

It’s entirely reasonable to be wary of situations that make him recall the nights where he was the most frightened that he’d ever felt.

There’s a muffled scream from somewhere far up ahead, and both he and Bridgit jolt at the sound while Selina fearlessly charges onwards. Bridgit, at least, has the reassuring feeling of Selina’s hand grasping her own.

Bruce could probably use a hand to hold right about now.

Deeper and deeper into the haunted house they move, and the fog eventually disperses to make way for dim, flickering lights that seem to hum as if the electrical system is on the verge of overloading. The humming gets louder, and the lights flicker faster, then everything goes almost blindingly bright before the recorded sound of glass shattering echoes from around them as it abruptly goes completely dark. 

Bruce is very happy that he’s in the back.

“Selina,” Bridgit’s voice is a soft whisper, “can you see anything?”

“Barely, but we’ve got nowhere to go but straight ahead anyways. C’mon.”

“Here, Bruce.” Bridgit fumbles back for him, fingers trailing down his sleeve. “Take my hand? Something is probably gonna happen soon, I don’t want us to get separated.”

Bruce pulls one of his hands out of his jacket pocket and grasps onto Bridgit’s. “Thanks,” he says, trying not to sound too relieved. 

Even in the dark he can tell that she smiles back at him, because that’s just how Bridgit is. 

“Okay guys,” Selina starts bravely, tugging them along. Bridgit giggles a little, and Bruce almost trips over his own feet following after them. “Let’s go.”

There’s a sound of heavy footsteps from behind them, overhead, as if someone is walking on the floor right above them. The steps become faster, rushing right overtop of them, and then there’s a sound of a door slamming.

Then something heavy drops at the end of the hallway in front of them with an almost deafening crash.

Bridgit shrieks, Bruce jumps, and Selina abruptly turns down another small hallway as whatever dropped in front of them—probably a mannequin or doll on some kind of pulley system—seems to start screaming.

“Don’t go further,” it cries in a wretched voice, and the steady flash of a strobe light begins to light the hallway, emanating from the room they’re headed towards. “Don’t go further!”

Bruce can’t see what’s in the room ahead of them, but he can hear Selina yell, “motherfuck!” before they careen into it.

And then he sees the figures around them, features indistinct due to their covered faces and the strobe light in the center of the room. The actors get close, close enough that Bruce isn’t sure if he’s just imagining the feeling of something brushing against the back of his jacket, but he darts forward to get away all the same. There are two doorways across from them; Bruce is barely able to make out that one heads into what looks to be a hall of mirrors before he’s tugged into whichever one Selina instinctively ran through first.

It only gets worse from there.

Selina curses loudly and often, which is generally enough for Bridgit and Bruce to brace themselves for whatever they might be heading into next, but knowing that something is coming and that whoever might be lying in wait for them are actors doesn’t take away the fear.

Bruce jolts, and stifles screams, and clutches onto Bridgit’s hand tightly. He’s glad she offered it out to him before the scares began, otherwise he knows he would have been separated from them after the room with the strobe light—heading into that hall of mirrors instead of the path that Selina had darted towards. 

His blood is rushing in his ears, and his heart is pounding in his chest, and he’s certain that his hand is grossly cool and clammy.

He is never coming to a haunted house ever again. 

Up ahead he can barely make out the shadows of figures that must be hidden around a corner. They look like looming ghosts, or demons in the dark, or muggers in an alley. His breath comes out in quick, shallow pants as he prepares to run through another gauntlet of actors, and then—

Something firmly grabs a hold of his arm and tugs.

Bruce lets go of Bridgit’s hand and whirls around, eyes barely catching sight of the eerie mask and the scythe as he moves on instinct and kicks out his leg, landing a hit somewhere on their abdomen.

The figure falls back with a yell, and their head smacks against the floor, and Bruce freezes.

“Oh my gosh,” he says to himself under his breath, hardly aware of Bridgit and Selina’s panicked calls of his name. The figure on the floor, dressed up like some demonic scarecrow from a horror movie, isn’t moving. “Oh no.”

He takes a few rushed steps forward, heart beating even louder as he falls to his knees beside the actor’s prone body, hands worriedly skimming the air overtop of them but not actually touching.

“Hey, hey are you alright? Do I—do I need to call an ambulance?”

There’s a groan, and Bruce feels a wave of relief that they hadn’t smashed their head hard enough to get knocked out, and then a male voice says, “you caught me by surprise, but one kick isn’t enough to send me to a hospital.”

“I am so, so sorry,” Bruce’s face feels like it’s on fire, he’s so embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.” The actor starts sitting up and Bruce rushes to help keep him steady, his hands settling uneasily on his upper back and arm. The fall had knocked their mask askew and Bruce would be surprised if they could see at all through misaligned eye holes with the already low-light setting they were in.

“Bruce,” Bridgit calls out, and Bruce can hear their footsteps coming closer. “What are you doing?”

Bruce turns around and he wants to say ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ but, really, it’s exactly what it looks like.

Bruce has—has _assaulted_ some poor haunted house worker that was only trying to do their job.

“Bruce!” Selina’s sharp voice somehow manages to be exasperated and amused at the same time. “You are not supposed to touch the actors!” Bruce snatches his hands away as if the cautious assistance was the worst of his sins tonight. “And you are definitely not supposed to attack the actors!”

“He startled me,” Bruce says weakly in defense. “Not that I mean that as an excuse! I’m—Gosh. I really am sorry.”

The young man beside him chuckles dryly. “Scaring people is kind of what a haunted house is for. If you didn’t want to be startled—” He starts pulling off the lopsided mask, and Bruce can see a bit of dark hair beginning to tumble free. “—you probably should have stayed home.” 

The mask is off, and he looks over at Bruce with a wry sort of smile and—

His eyes are very, very blue.

And he has a very, very nice face.

Bruce feels his cheeks go even hotter. 

Oh no. 

x-x-x

When Jonathan’s roommate had offered him an in on a seasonal job Jonathan had been quick to take him up on it. He’d laid out the budget for his student loan almost as soon as he’d gotten the money, committed to ensuring that he didn’t end up splurging on anything too big during his first year in university. While he was making ends meet and wasn’t even reduced to sharing a unit in the absolute worst apartment building in Gotham, he knew it would be nice to have some extra cash on hand. 

It was pretty easy money, too. Minimum wage, but all he had to do was wait for people to pass by, not realizing that he was standing in the dark behind them, and give them a good scare. In the dark of his designated section the cheap, itchy costume he was wearing was suitably frightening, and Jonathan would be the first to admit that he kind of got a kick out of being the cause of so much terrified screaming. 

Maybe he got too much of a kick out of it. Maybe he’d grabbed the guy who was trailing behind a couple of girls a little too hard and this was some kind of divine punishment.

His mask isn’t in place any more so he can’t see a thing, but after a few painful, startled moments he is aware of a voice, it must be the guy who kicked him, asking if he needs to call an ambulance.

Jonathan feels a bemused smile tug at his lips despite himself, and it only grows during the ensuing, stumbling apology and the guy’s friends heading back to find them both on the floor.

Jonathan, even though he’s definitely going to be sore for a while, is a little too amused by the situation to bear a grudge. 

“If you didn’t want to be startled—” He starts pulling the mask off and hopes that he’s got a few minutes to compose himself before anyone else comes through. “—you probably should have stayed home.” 

He turns to give the guy who’d kicked him—Bruce, his friend had called him—a somewhat mocking smile, because Jonathan admittedly can be kind of an ass sometimes and even though he’s not going to hold grudge that doesn’t mean he’s going to completely ignore the unwise decision of someone with hair-trigger reflexes coming into a haunted house where the actors were allowed to physically interact with you. 

Their eyes meet and—

Oh. Bruce is cute.

Big brown eyes and dark curly hair with the kind of bone structure that people payed to fake. Even in the dim light Jonathan can see his cheeks have gone pink, probably from the embarrassment of the situation. Not just cute. Really cute. 

“Do you think you can stand?” Bruce asks, and before Jonathan even has the chance to nod he’s springing to his feet and offering out both of his hands, like he thinks his kick has completely incapacitated him or something. That’s kind of cute too, though, and although Jonathan is absolutely certain he could stand up on his own he takes hold of both of the offered hands and lets himself be helped into a standing position. 

“Are you okay back there Jon?” One of his co-workers calls from down the hall.

“I’m fine, thanks!” He runs a hand through his unruly hair, the hair elastic he’d tied it back with had long since slipped out. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You hit your head, maybe it would be a good idea for you to get checked out just to be sure.”

“And miss most of my shift?” Not that he needed the money that badly, but he already had some plans for what he was going to do with it and he’d rather not lose any hours. “No. I’m good.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. He looks like he’s about to stubbornly protest, but one of his friends speaks up before he can.

“Bruce, stop bothering the poor guy already.”

“I’m not bothering him,” he protests fervently before asking, softly, “Am I bothering you?”

Jonathan’s lips twitch in another bemused smile. “Not really, no.”

“Bruce,” the call of his name is more amused, this time around, “stop flirting and get over here already.”

Bruce whirls around and hisses “_Selina_,” but not before Jonathan catches sight of the flush coming back into his cheeks.

It’s probably in poor taste to flirt on the job but given the situation Jonathan thinks he deserves a little leeway.

“If you want,” he starts in a drawl, and Bruce’s attention flickers back over to him. The tips of his ears have actually gone pink, and Jonathan privately thinks that he’ll be stupidly devastated if this doesn’t go how he wants it to. “You can make this up to me by taking me out for coffee sometime.”

Bruce’s posture shifts straighter, and his eyes gleam in the low light, and Jonathan is already in so much trouble but he absolutely cannot help himself.

“Oh?” A small smile tugs at Bruce’s lips. “Yes, I’d like that, here, just let me—” He digs a hand into one of his pockets, and not too far behind them in the maze there’s a sound of a few shrieks. “Here we are,” he finishes, pulling out a pen. “Do you have anything to write on?”

Jonathan holds out his hand, and Bruce quickly begins scribbling a phone number onto his palm.

“I’m Bruce, by the way.”

“Jonathan.”

There’s another set of screams, obviously getting closer. Bruce takes a few steps backwards, soft smile still firmly on his face.

“It was nice meeting you. Sorry again,” he calls out over his shoulder as he turns. Then his friends maneuver him in between them both, one on each side as they hold onto both of his hands. 

Jonathan is fairly sure he can hear the sound of one of the girls, Selina, telling him that it’s so he won’t attack anyone else before they make it out, and he chuckles to himself as he pulls his mask on.

He has a job to do, and after that…

Maybe he’ll send a text after work to see if Bruce is free during the weekend for that coffee.

**Author's Note:**

> And then Bruce and Jonathan actually find stuff to talk to each other about because they're both really interested in biochem. :)


End file.
